Alliance
by tamilnadu09
Summary: "Who we are and who we need to be..." Caught in an uneasy alliance with Bellamy, Clarke begins to realize that the lines are becoming blurred. Canon through 1x09. Bellarke.
1. Into the Darkness

**A/N: **Well, this is my first foray into The 100 fandom! I've read quite a few Bellarke fics on this site and regularly watch the Bellarke fanvids on YT (as you can tell, I'm kinda obsessed with this ship!) In all seriousness, this is the first show that has truly captured my attention in a long time. The last show to do so was the early seasons of TVD, and more recently OUAT. I've been wanting to write a Bellarke fic for a while now, but I wanted to wait for most of the season to air so that I could really get a feel for the characters. As anyone who has read my past work can tell you, characterization and "realistic" writing is pretty important to me. That being said, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

* * *

_(takes place at the end of 1x09- Unity Day)_

_._

_._

Despair.

Clarke thought she had known what despair was when she learned of her own mother's betrayal. Sure, it had stung—someone she had trusted, someone she _loved—_had been responsible for breaking up her family, for taking her father away from her. But it wasn't just that...it was the guilt. The overwhelming shame she had felt for taking her anger out on Wells.

As she knelt in the ground, her fists grasping into the dirt, she felt a sob escape her. Wells—poor, innocent Wells—someone who had loved her so much that he was willing to take on her unjustified venom just so that she could sleep at night without hating her only remaining family member.

And then he had been killed.

Clarke was sobbing openly now, anguish clutching onto her heart and seeping into her pores, her veins, her blood. Too many people had died. Everywhere she turned, there was another dead body or another injured person or...

The dropship.

She raised her gaze to the last place the dropship had crash-landed. The dropship that was supposed to save them all. The dropship that her _mother _was on.

That's when she knew what utter despair was.

It was too much.

"Clarke..."

She screwed her eyes shut, her shoulders shaking with the effort of holding back her tears. She hated that he had to be here; that he had to be the one to see her at her weakest point. A small gasp escaped her throat when she felt a hand on her shoulder and she jerked forward, not having expected his touch.

"Sorry," Bellamy muttered and she stared at the ground as his shadow retreated backwards several feet. There was a long moment of silence. Then: "We have to go."

Go.

_Yes. _

Clarke scrambled to her feet, her eyes trained on the smoke rising in the distance. It was probably a couple hours trek, but they could do it. She began walking in that direction purposefully, assuming that Bellamy would be right behind her.

She realized she was wrong when she heard footsteps pounding against the ground and suddenly his hand was around her wrist, pulling her back sharply. "What is it?" she demanded, digging in her heels to stop herself from smacking into Bellamy's chest. She frowned at the slightly crazed look in his eyes, "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Bellamy repeated, somewhat incredulously. "Just where the hell do you think you're going?"

Clarke raised an eyebrow, a little surprised at his question. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Princess. I said, no."

"Yeah? Well, I don't take orders from you." Clarke snapped, wrenching her wrist out of his grasp. In the darkness, his eyes glinted with something she couldn't quite identify and she swallowed uncertainly. "I'm going out there," she announced then, a little defiantly. "My mother is out there, Bellamy!"

His face contorted, his jaw ticking as he tried to reign in his temper. "Clarke, don't be an idiot." When she merely glared at him, he stepped back from her. "I know you're smarter than this." He glanced at the sky behind them and then looked back at her, this time with a softened gaze. "The likelihood of survivors..."

She felt fresh tears slide down her cheeks at his words. Her mother was really gone. And she had died thinking that her own daughter hated her.

Another ounce of despair and guilt to add to the growing black mark on her heart. Idly, she wondered if there was a special place in hell reserved just for her.

"Stop it."

Startled, she blinked. Bellamy was standing near her again, so close that she could see the eyelashes framed against his face. "Wh-what?"

"That place that you just went," he said to her in a low voice, so low that she almost had to strain to hear him. "You don't deserve that kind of darkness, Clarke. You're better than that."

_You're better than me. _

He didn't say the words, but the unspoken silence between them was so tangible that he may as well have. "Bellamy, that's not true." She decided to answer the sentence he had said out loud instead of acknowledging what he hadn't. "I've done terrible things. We all have."

Half his mouth curved into a smile, but it was more of a grimace even to her eyes. "Some things are more terrible than others."

_Some people are more terrible than others. _

She grew angry, suddenly. "You have no right," she said to him, her voice shaking. "You don't know what I've been through—what _any _of us have been through! You think you're a monster? Well, fine! I think I'm one, too. What do you think about that?" Her last sentence was a harsh whisper and she realized she was breathing heavily, her fingers clenched into Bellamy's upper arm. He was staring directly at her, and as she gazed up at him, she could see his pupils dilate. Flustered, she let go of his arm and stepped back with a mumbled apology.

Bellamy immediately dropped his own gaze to the ground. He shuffled a foot back and forth along the dirt, seemingly fascinated by the pattern he was creating there. "We'll send out a search party in the morning for any supplies that we can salvage from the wreckage."

"At first light."

He looked up at her then, and their gazes locked in silent understanding. After a second, he nodded in affirmation. "At first light."

Together, they walked back to the camp.

They didn't speak, but they walked back as equals.

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_*This fic will include most canon aspects (and major plot points) from the show, but it is technically AU after 1x09. be sure to drop a review! _


	2. The Sun Also Rises

_(takes place prior to opening scene of 1x10)_

_._

_._

He was true to his word.

As soon as they had reached camp, Bellamy had called a meeting and explained what he and Clarke had just seen. Most of the faces in the crowd looked worried—others, devastated. But they all agreed with Bellamy that the best course of action was to gather a group of people in the morning and set out together.

Clarke kept her lips pressed together in a straight line, and said nothing at all.

She could see Finn glance at her a few times, but she ignored him. She didn't want his pity, or his concern.

When Bellamy called for volunteers to go with him in the morning, she turned and walked back to her tent. She knew he would try to convince her it was better for her to stay in the camp in case someone got injured (which was bound to happen), but she didn't want to hear it.

"Clarke."

She turned, frowning. Finn was standing at the opening of her tent, looking unsure. "What do you want?"

He looked aggravated at her less than warm welcome. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright." He hesitated, "You've been through a lot today."

"We all have."

_I'm nothing special. _

Finn frowned, "Bellamy says that you're coming with us tomorrow?"

Clarke raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Did he?" Then after a beat, she realized what he had said. "Us?"

"Yeah, me and..." he trailed off.

"Raven?" she guessed correctly, smiling a little at his silence. "You can say her name, you know."

"No, I know," Finn ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "That's not why...she's not why I'm here."

He began walking towards her, but Clarke held out a hand to stop him. "Then you should go back to your tent, Finn." She tried to make her voice soft, but she still saw him tense at her words. "You're right, it's been a long day. I'm tired."

"Alright," Finn didn't look happy with her response, but he backed off. "See you in the morning."

She nodded after him, but she was alone for no more than two seconds when her tent flap rustled again. Clarke whirled around, a reprimand on the tip of her tongue, but she fell silent when she saw who it was.

"Bellamy," her voice sounded weary, even to her own ears. "What is it now?"

He eyed her speculatively for a moment, "Are you sure you want to come to the dropship crash site with us tomorrow? It might not be...the best idea."

"I'm coming," she interrupted him belligerently, almost daring him to disagree with her. "I need to be there. I need to see..."

_My mom. Our last hope. What went wrong. _

"Fine," Bellamy said briskly, "Get some rest. We can't have our only medic tripping over a tree branch because she was too sleep deprived to see where she was going."

Clarke gritted her teeth, but chose not to say anything. His tendency to place her in the "useful" category only because of her medical training was grating on her nerves, but she was too tired to get into an argument with him tonight.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be running on the same wavelength as her. He tilted his head and walked more fully into her tent, invading her personal space and towering above her with his usual alpha-male swagger. "Something you want to say, Clarke?"

She didn't give him the satisfaction of cowering backwards or pushing against him for more room. Instead, she stood her ground, rearranging her features into a carefully calculated expression of disinterest. "Sure," she said to him blandly, "Get out."

He smirked, but did as she asked, only calling over his shoulder as he exited her tent, "Sleep tight, Princess."

Clarke scowled after him. It was a full minute after he left that she finally unclenched her fists.

Her fingers were still trembling.

.

.

Clarke woke before daybreak from a restless sleep—she'd been plagued with nightmares of her mother being ripped from her arms by a dark, unseen force. And then she would run, screaming for her mother to come back to her. But the more she ran, the faster the shadow would fly until Abby disappeared into the abyss completely. She'd woken up drenched in sweat and breathing hard, as if she really had been running through the dark woods all night.

Refusing to go back to sleep when there was so much to do, Clarke walked outside to wash up. It was still dark, with only a hint of light shimmering in the east. Her eyes darted back and forth, but no one else seemed to be up other than the people guarding the gate.

After making herself as clean as she could under the circumstances, she began gathering supplies to carry in her pack for the journey. The sun was just beginning to rise, and she could hear the murmurings of her fellow hundred starting to get ready for the day.

"Early start?"

Clarke barely stifled a groan. Why was it that the person she tried the most to avoid was doing his damned best to seek her out?

"Finn," she acknowledged, turning to face him reluctantly. "Yeah, I...couldn't really sleep."

"Me neither," he looked at her meaningfully, but she didn't take the bait. Instead, her attention was drawn to Bellamy's tent, where he had just emerged shirtless—and with a tall brunette attached at his hip. Clarke restrained herself from rolling her eyes, but something must have flashed across her face because Finn immediately turned to see what had distracted her.

Clarke could feel her face heat up—why, she wasn't sure. But when Finn faced her again, his gaze was almost accusing.

_You and Bellamy are leading us down a dangerous road. _

"Finn?" They both turned rather guiltily to look at Raven, who was standing at her tent. She looked annoyed. "I was wondering where you were." Raven's gaze flicked to Clarke once. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I was just asking Clarke what she recommended bringing in our packs," Finn said quickly, "You know, in case of...whatever."

"Guns," Bellamy's voice carried across the compound, even though he wasn't shouting. "As far as I'm concerned, that's all we need. Keep your packs light, in case there are any supplies that need to be carried back."

Finn scowled, "That's extra weight."

Bellamy ignored him. "Any other questions?" When no one spoke, he glanced at Clarke. "Everyone get ready to head out." He gave her a grin, a half smirk that was full of secrets. "It's first light."

.

.

The journey through the woods was largely uneventful. They had taken a group of ten people with them, most of whom carried weapons.

Finn did not.

And surprisingly, neither did Raven.

Clarke stayed near the back of the group, keeping an eye out for the impending Grounder retaliation that was sure to come after the bridge incident from the previous night.

She didn't know how long they had been walking, but she knew she had underestimated the distance between their campsite and the dropship crash. It had certainly been more than two hours already. She only hoped they would be able to get back home before dark, or she would never hear the end of it from Bellamy.

Speaking of which...

"What?"

He had fallen into step with her about half a mile back, but had so far not spoken to her. At her words, however, he turned to look at her questioningly. "What's the story with you three?"

Clarke followed his gaze to where Finn and Raven were leading the group. Every so often, Finn would turn around and catch her eye. To what purpose, she didn't know.

"No story."

She thought he would press the issue, but he didn't. "Fine," he said curtly, "Just don't let it get in the way of what we're trying to accomplish here."

Clarke swung her head around sharply, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Bellamy had quickened his pace, almost as if he was trying to outrun the very conversation that he had started. "We have enough complications down here without..." He glanced up, right at the instant that Finn once again turned back to look at Clarke. "Without that," Bellamy finished, and then he dropped back, leaving Clarke to her own (confused) thoughts.


	3. The Thin Line

**A/N: **sorry for the delay! so I will have a couple more "canon" chapters that will lead into the ending of season 1, and then we will veer into a "Season 2" storyline. many thanks to justvisting80 who has urged me to continue this fic! and thank you of course to everyone reading...enjoy!

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_(extended ending scene to 1x10)_

_._

_._

Bellamy's gaze probed across the campsite, unsure of what he was looking for. After a minute, he made his way over to the nearest person guarding the gate. "Have you seen Clarke?"

"I think she stepped outside."

"For what?"

The boy looked a little taken aback by Bellamy's suddenly sharpened tone, and he stuttered out his answer. "I..think to see the graves?"

Bellamy scowled and stalked past the guards. He found Clarke standing just a few feet away from the wall, her face somber as she stared down at the ground. He immediately walked towards her, relief and annoyance battling for dominance within him.

He could tell the exact moment that she felt his presence beside her, because she imperceptibly tensed. It was a slight stiffening of her shoulders, but that was it; her wearied stance didn't change—and it was this that worried him more than he cared to admit.

He forced himself to keep his voice neutral, however. "You're outside of the wall without a gun."

She half-turned at the sound of his voice, but she looked pained.

"Clarke."

"14 graves," her voice was a mere whisper, not the belligerent or reprimanding tone he'd been expecting.

Bellamy glanced down, feeling the burden of the fourteen resting on his shoulders. The guilt. Everything they had done, it had come down to this. Every decision he had led them down, it all came down to...

"We need to talk about Murphy."

Once again, she didn't give him the argument that he was expecting _(that he needed...)._

"It's hard running things," Clarke eventually said, a note of finality in her voice. She clearly wanted to be done with the conversation. Bellamy's jaw tightened, wanting to say things that he had no business saying.

Silence fell between them again.

"Fourteen."

Her voice was heavy now, and he knew what she was trying to say. _We don't need Murphy's body on our conscience too. _

"So he stays," Bellamy didn't look at her, "For now."

"Fine." Her voice was so tired, so drained. Bellamy blinked, unaware of when exactly he had put his hand on her shoulder. She was staring at him now, a little in confusion and a little...with something else.

"You need to get some rest," Bellamy said roughly, his fingers briefly tightening on her shoulder before letting go. "You're exhausted."

"We all are."

"That's no excuse and you know it."

Clarke crossed her arms, her gaze flickering between the graves and the trees and the lanterns around them—looking anywhere but at him. "I have to stay here, I have to...I can't go to sleep."

"Can't sleep?" Bellamy asked incredulously, "Don't be ridiculous, Clarke. We could all use more sleep than we're getting. It's late, you should—"

"I _will," _she cut him off, now sounding frustrated. "Just not yet."

"Clarke?"

They both turned at the unwelcome intrusion, and the scowl on Bellamy's face intensified. "Finn, get inside. You don't have a weapon and you're—"

"Neither does Clarke." Finn angled his body away from Bellamy's, clearly trying to cut him out of the conversation. "I was looking for you."

Clarke sighed, rubbing her hands across her face. "Finn, it's really late. Can't this wait till tomorrow?"

Finn didn't take the hint and moved closer, his expression concerned. "Clarke, you need to get some rest." He held his hand out to her, "Come on, let me walk you to your tent."

"She's not five," Bellamy's tone was scathing. "How about the both of you get back inside before I make you?"

Clarke's head swung around defiantly, but she stopped short at the darkening rage in Bellamy's gaze. "Fine," she snapped, "We're going." She waved a hand in front of her to gesture for Finn to go ahead, and she fell into step behind him.

As she passed Bellamy, however, she paused to look up at him, and their fiery gazes locked. "Just for the record, I don't take orders from you."

His hand shot out, two fingers wrapping around her wrist to hold her still. His face held an ounce of regret, "Clarke—"

But she wrenched her wrist out of his grasp and walked away.

.

.

"I'm sorry."

Clarke turned slowly, not out of fear but on instinct. She didn't have the energy for this; not tonight. Her tent was dark, but she could still see him clearly: the broadness of his shoulders taking up too much space, the way his fingers were clenched into a fist at his side, the lost expression on his face as he walked closer to her—much too close for her liking.

"About what?"

Bellamy didn't answer her for a full minute. "A lot of things," he said finally, "But mostly about your mom."

She let out a slow gust of air, not realizing she'd been holding her breath. She was going to say that it wasn't his fault, that he had nothing to apologize for, but her words got lost. Instead, all that came out was a whispered, "Thank you."

But he still didn't leave. "Why are you scared to sleep?"

Clarke looked up at that, surprised (once again) by his intuitiveness. "What?"

"I'm not an idiot, Clarke," he said, and his voice held a trace of a smile. "I know the signs."

She licked her dry lips, and caught his eyes following the movement. Flustered, she looked away. "Nightmares."

"About what?"

The conversation felt far too intimate and Clarke shifted uncomfortably. "Bellamy..."

"About how you couldn't save your mom?"

Her head shot up, a frown marring her features. "How did you know?"

He shook his head, and she saw him rapidly blinking as if waking up from a dream. "You and I...we're not so different, you know." When she didn't respond, he gave her a rueful smile. "Good night, Clarke."

And he was gone so fast, she was left staring at the empty space he had been standing in and wondering why her tent still felt too small.


End file.
